what spring does with the cherry trees
by tragicomedy
Summary: Just a favour, just two friends helping each other out, that was all it was. It began with a lie, kissed right into his mouth. It ended with the truth, whispered into hers. Ichigo/Orihime.


_i dreamed that you bewitched me into bed_

* * *

It starts with a lie.

It's a very strange beginning, because Orihime is always truthful, and she has always been open and honest about her feelings for Ichigo.

Except to the poor boy himself, and she wonders who she's hurting more: him or her.

_Please_, she begs, _I need someone to _see_ me…_

And he's kissing her before she can continue, not gently like the way she had always imagined, but rough, demanding, passionate.

She kisses him back until he pulls away, breathless and panting. _So this is just practice? Two friends just… helping each other out, right?_

She nods quickly before grabbing his collar to recapture his lips.

_Yes_, she whispers into his mouth.

But all she can think is _lies lies lies._

* * *

It all starts one day, when the girls are sitting beneath the trees in the courtyard and discussion turns personal.

_Would you believe me if I said my first kiss was Ichigo?_ Tatsuki jokes and the girls all chorus their disbelief. All except Orihime who has been shocked into silence. _Just kidding, as if! I wouldn't waste my first kiss on Ichigo. Uhh, no offence, Orihime._

_Wait, really? You've kissed Ichigo?_ Michiru asks, eyes wide with excitement and Orihime hesitates before confirming that no, she has not kissed Ichigo.

_Of course not!_ Chizuru huffs, _Orihime will only give her first kiss to me, right, 'Hime?_ She grabs Orihime's chin and leans in slightly, but before Tatsuki can threaten her, Chizuru's released her, shocked to feel Orihime jerk away from her. It was something she had never done, never in all the molesting she'd had to put up with, so Chizuru had instantly recognises how important this first kiss must really be to Orihime.

Tatsuki punches her anyway, and the girls continue to titter about first kisses and crushes. Orihime only halfheartedly joins in the conversation.

Tatsuki takes her aside at the end of lunch, _Are you okay, Orihime?_

_Am I wasting my time, Tatsuki-chan?_ she whispers. _Nothing's ever going to happen between us, is it?_

Tatsuki hesitates and looks away before replying, _Not unless you do something about it._

Orihime thinks about what Tatsuki has said on the way back to the classroom. Her gaze automatically drifts towards him and she decides then and there that she's sick and tired of waiting.

* * *

_Do you think first kisses are important?_

The question takes him by surprise, especially coming from _her_ and directed at _him._ They are watching _Laugh Hour_ and he's a little intrigued by her _non sequitur._

_Uhh, sure, I guess._ He is more than slightly uncomfortable, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous habit. _Not that I'd really know anything about that…_

_So_, she interrupts, _do you think it's more important to have a clumsy first kiss with someone who is perfect for you, or a perfect kiss that's not your first with the person that is perfect for you?_

The question, nay, the entire conversation has turned Ichigo on his head. _I'm not sure I follow, Inoue._

_I've never been kissed. I'm almost eighteen years old and I've never been kissed._ She almost sounds angry. _I'm sick of waiting for the perfect person and the perfect moment. Maybe I should just, I don't know, practice first, with other guys, so when I kiss that perfect person, it'll be a great kiss. Because I'll know what to do and I won't be shy and it won't feel like the biggest event of my life._

_So, what? You're just going to kiss a bunch of random guys until you perfect the art?_ He doesn't want to admit it, but the thought upsets him a little. _That doesn't sound like you, Inoue._

_Not a bunch of random guys. Someone I trust. Someone who can tell me what I'm doing well and what I suck at_. She catches his eye and he suddenly gets it.

_And you think _I'm_ the guy? Inoue…_

_Please._ The single word stops his thought process in its tracks. _I'm sick of people looking at me and just seeing this_.She gestures from her head to her toes and Ichigo is suddenly aware of what other guys must see when they look at her. _They don't know anything about me. They don't know my taste in food is a little weird. They don't know I like to space out. They don't know my favourite show is _Laugh Hour_. And they don't _want _to know, all they want is a trophy._

Ichigo cannot bear to think that this is how she sees herself. Orihime is wonderful, stunning, amazing, and all people seemed to see when they looked at her was her chest – was that what she thought? He breaks her gaze as he processes her words.

_Please_, she begs and tears have formed in her beautiful eyes, _I need someone to _see_ me…_

And before he can help it, he is kissing her, kissing away all the doubt and fear she has as hard as he can. He wonders whether it is more that he has taken her first kiss or he has given her his. But her lips are soft and his brain has stopped working.

And it is the beginning of the end for him.

* * *

It was a strange deal. Once he'd had time to think about it, he kind of regretted it a little. Their friendship had effectively been ruined within that one afternoon of lips and hands and _touch me there_. Two friends who are just helping each other out, preparing each other for the real world, for love and lust and passion.

And that was the problem.

There was a little _too much_ passion between them. He hadn't thought about her that way before, but it was hard not to now. It was meant to be just a kiss but it had turned into more very _very_ quickly. By the end of the afternoon, he'd moved from hands on her waist, to the small of her back, to playing with her bra strap under her shirt, and he couldn't deny that he had been very tempted to flick it open.

And she had been no better. The hands that first grabbed the collar of his shirt had soon snaked up and down his torso, slipping under his shirt, and finally lowering down to play with his belt buckle.

At this rate, who knew what they'd be doing by the end of the week.

He catches sight of her crossing her long legs out of the corner of his eye and he forces himself to quickly look away.

She was dangerous territory now, dangerous and inviting and irresistible.

And he decides then and there that he has to end it while he can still look her in the eye.

* * *

She had no doubts, no regrets.

His touch is burned into her skin, the feel of his tongue seared into her brain, inerasable. Not that she would ever want to, but even if she did, he was a part of her now and she couldn't, _wouldn't_, wash him off.

She stares at him, fidgeting in his seat, and all she can think is _more more more._

She cannot get enough. It will never be enough until she has everything he has to give.

* * *

_I'll walk you home_, he says at the end of the day. She does not protest.

They do not hold hands, but their fingers brush and the electricity is _too much_ and he almost wants to push her against the wall and—

He has to stop thinking about her that way. Hormones. Blame the hormones.

_Do you want to come in?_

He nods mutely, an instinctive reaction. Damn.

Now they are alone, his resolve is slipping, memories of the last time he was here rise to the surface and his body is almost begging for more, begging for her.

_Look, Inoue, I don't think—_

And suddenly she is _there_, pushing him against the wall.

_Don't think,_ she murmurs against his mouth. She pulls him closer until they are touching everywhere at once. _Don't think, just feel._

And his resolve is gone, lost beneath her school shirt and in her mouth and her eyes have darkened in… lust?

_Don't think,_ he repeats into her mouth. _Just feel_.

He touches her again and he cannot let go.

They are both drowning.

* * *

One day, Tatsuki asks her whether something has changed, whether there's anything she wants to talk about.

And she lies right to her face, _no, of course not_, before chewing on her bottom lip thoughtfully.

She'd almost chewed through the same lip yesterday afternoon. She's surprised it isn't actually bruised yet. She's sure Ichigo will work on that soon enough. Well, she hopes so anyway. He's walking her home again today. It's automatic now, he does not ask, just follows her home.

She had always been the one to follow him and now, now he is chasing her, all the way down the rabbit hole.

* * *

If this relationship were remotely real, they'd think they were moving too fast. But this was just practice, and practice made perfect. They'd perfected everything they'd tried so far, so when Orihime begins to unbuckle his pants one day, he only manages a feeble protest before she smirks at him, _hey, I need to practice this stuff, too._

And really, he couldn't argue against that.

He'll use the same line later when he's returning the favour, but he doesn't really need to, she's not arguing. Her hand is on his wrist, guiding him, before she's nearly chewing her lip to keep from screaming.

_Don't hold back_, he breathes into her ear, and she doesn't. She arches her back and he catches the scream with his mouth.

Her body is vibrating, the air is thick with sweat and sex and secrets and he cannot wash away her scent in the shower that night, cannot stop the sounds she made from echoing in his ears. He doesn't try very hard though, he doesn't want to.

_Dangerous, dangerous._ His mind is screaming at him.

But his body wins and he cannot pull away.

* * *

Just a favour, just two friends helping each other out, that was all it was.

But after a month of fooling around, they have nowhere else to go.

They'd been running. Running and running and running until they realise they've run themselves into a corner and there's nowhere else to turn.

_I can't do this._ He finally says what he'd meant to say weeks ago. But it's too late, he's too far gone, seen too much, done too much and he doesn't want to let her go.

_Why not? Isn't this the most important thing to practice?_ She's leaning over him, straddling his hips, playing with her bra strap. His eyes follow the path of her fingers and he can barely breathe.

_That's a lie,_ he whispers. _This practice thing? It's a lie. It's been a lie for a while. Was it ever even the truth?_

And she cannot run anymore, cannot hurt this boy because she loves him, and it was why she lied in the first place.

_No,_ she admits. _It was never the truth. But that doesn't make what we have a lie, either._

_And what do we have, Orihime?_

Only here, only in her apartment he will call her by her given name, and only here she will do the same, because it's just a little weird to fool around with someone who called you by your last name, especially if they added an honorific to the end of it.

_I love you._ It is the first honest thing she has said to him in a long time. _I love you, Ichigo, and I want this so much, it hurts._

He looks and her and realises she is crying, just like their first time. He sighs and takes her hand. He kisses her gently, much more gently than their first time and whispers, _I love you, too._

She still will not quite meet his eyes; her guilt about deceiving him is still preying on her mind.

_So. Would you like me to make love to you, then?_

She looks up suddenly and he is smiling at her. She pauses then laughs and he pulls her down to nibble her ear. He flicks the clasp and her bra is tossed across the room. Their underwear is tossed towards the door. His mouth feels like it is everywhere, and his hands are wandering wherever his mouth isn't, and she is on fire, but still she is laughing. And then she realises she hasn't answered his question.

_Yes._

_Yes?_

_Yes._

* * *

_and sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane_


End file.
